The morning in Bangkok carried a hot, languid energy. Sunlight glinted off the glass doors of the hotel lobby, turning the street outside into a shimmering haze of white light and movement. Yeh, Fiona, Lin, and Jing stood and waited in the lobby of the hotel, caught between the cool blast of the air conditioning and the thick heat seeping in through the cracks.
In the distance, a man wearing sunglasses, a t-shirt, and casual trousers raised his hand in greeting.
It was PYang.
Yeh recognized him instantly. She walked over and patted his shoulder naturally. "You finally made it."
"University has been crazy these past two days," PYang smiled, taking her backpack from her as if it were a habit long formed. "Come on, let me show you around the old city." The interaction was seamless, carrying an intimacy that required no explanation.
They piled into tuk-tuks, weaving through the congested streets. The roar of engines, horns, and chatter fragmented any conversation. The wind rushed against their faces, hot and heavy with the scent of the city. No one spoke much, only with occasional laughter and phrases snatched away by the breeze.
Along Charoen Krung Road, the storefronts were charmingly aged, their signs faded but still standing strong.
PYang walked at the front, setting a deliberate pace, frequently glancing back to make sure Yeh was keeping up.
"The milk tea here is pretty good, want to try some?" He stopped and bought one signiture drink for Yeh, and inserted the straw and handing it to Yeh. Yeh took it, nodding, her expression was softer than usual with a faint smile. It wasn't overt, but it was a clear departure from her usual guarded composure.
Meanwhile, Lin walked beside Jing, each holding an iced drink, moving at an easy rhythm. Jing made a joke, and Lin laughed, her eyes was crinkling, her whole face was lighting up. Their interaction was unguarded, just like everyday life, and natural.
Yeh caught the image from the corner of her eye. She didn't turn her head fully, but her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her cup.
Lunch was at an old establishment with worn wooden furniture. A ceiling fan whirred noisily overhead.
PYang sat next to Yeh and naturally placed a dish onto her plate. "This is delicious. I think you'll like it."
Yeh looked up and smiled softly. "Thank you."
Her voice was lighter than usual, carrying a trace of dependence, as if she were allowing herself to be taken care of. It wasn't forced, yet it felt like a conscious choice.
Everything was observed clearly from across the table.
Lin sat opposite them, saying nothing. Her gaze flickered between the two for a second before drifting away casually.
Jing poured a drink for Lin and gently rolled up her sleeve. "Careful, don't dip it in the soup."
The movement was automatic, born of long familiarity.
Yeh looked down, tapping her fork lightly against the edge of her plate. The sound was faint, but it echoed loudly in her own chest.
In that moment, Yeh realized with painful clarity what she was doing—and how ridiculous it was. She was competing silently, trying to assert her presence in the only way she knew how-interacting with a man, pretending to be indifferent, yet desperate to be seen by Lin.
The contradiction exhausted her.
——
As evening fell, they headed to China Town.
The crowd was dense, pressing them forward with every step. When a group of tourists surged toward them, PYang instinctively reached out, his arm brushing briefly across Yeh's shoulders, pulling her slightly closer to him to shield her from the crush. It was quick, natural, an instinct born of protection.
Yeh didn't pull away.
From within the crowd, Lin looked back.
Just once.
Her expression was unreadable—no irritation, no surprise, no lingering attention. It was brief, and then she turned forward again, as if nothing had happened at all. That silence was harder to decipher than any reaction would have been.
On the way back, they split into two tuk-tuks again.
Yeh and PYang rode in the front; Lin and the others followed behind.
As the vehicle picked up speed, the wind rushed past, cooling the heat of the day and scattering her thoughts into disarray.
PYang turned to her. "Did you have fun today?"
Yeh stared at the streetlights blurring past. "It was good."
Her voice was soft, carrying an indefinable tenderness—a mixture of exhaustion and relief, and perhaps, a quiet sense of disappointment.
Back in her hotel room, silence returned instantly.
Yeh stood before the mirror, watching her reflection.
There was a tiredness in her eyes, faint but undeniable. She draped a towel over her shoulder and let out a short, self-deprecating laugh.
She knew exactly what she had done today. The extra attention paid to PYang, standing closer, softening her tone...
None of it was about him. It was all for the purpose of getting attention from another pair of eyes.
She had wanted to test the waters, to provoke a reaction, to create even the slightest ripple. But the result was absolute silence.
Lin hadn't responded. She showed no sign of caring, no sign of jealousy, not even a hint of emotion to decode. She was as still as a deep lake, without even a single ripple.
Yeh looked at herself in the glass, quiet for a long time before whispering softly:
"I ... am really ridiculous."